"Lower the net!" Jaxom ordered and four of Pinch's assistants jumped to obey.

"Belay that!" cried a voice from the right-hand side of the crowd and a big man, capped as a fisherman and showing a Master's knot, stood apart. "If you leave 'em in the net, Lord Jaxom, we can just sling the whole lot of 'em aft of my ship and I'll tow 'em out to the deep water! Save a lot of trouble!"

The crowd roared its approval of such rough justice.

"Ah, but, Captain, I am here," Jaxom said and his expression was one of rueful regret, "and so is Weyrleader N'ton and the MasterPrinter. So we are obliged to follow established procedures."

"Which are?" the captain demanded, not pleased with the rejection.

"According to the Charter," and Jaxom swung slowly around to the audience, his eyes seeming to touch everyone in the front ranks, "by which we have been well governed for the past twenty-five hundred Turns, a Lord Holder, a Weyrleader, and a Master of any Craft may hold a trial."

"Hold it then!" roared the captain and the crowd roared back an affirmative.

"You can't do that!" one of the captives shouted, struggling in the net. "We've done nothing wrong."

A lump hammer dropped free of the mesh and then Tagetarl saw that it was not the only tool that had tumbled to the ground.

The captain threw back his head to roar with laughter. "Only because you didn't get the chance!"

The crowd howled with delight.

"Would you prefer the captain's justice?" Jaxom demanded.

"That isn't justice!"cried a woman's voice. "Stop grabbing me!" she added angrily to someone beside her in the net. "You've no right to do this to us."

Another heavy object dropped ringingly to the cobbles.

"Oh, clear all that hardware away, Pinch, and drop the net," Jaxom said, utterly disgusted with his attempt to make this an orderly procedure. "Let's see what sort of catch you've made. Black-faced iron fins? Did you get the whole school of 'em? D'you know the captain, Tag?" he asked in a quick aside.

"Captain Venabil," Tagetarl replied. "He's well known but no one would dare board his ship without permission."

The net came down hard enough to rattle everyone in it, provoking a new spate of cries, curses, and pained exclamations. The captives were then as unceremoniously dumped out of the thick mesh as a load of fish: some sprawled facedown, others on all fours, groggy after their time in the swaying net.

"All right there." It was Pinch who took charge. "Stand up! Make a line!" Roughly, he pulled one man up and signaled for his assistants to get the rest to their feet. "Search 'em, too."

While that was being done, and knives, chisels, matches, and long spikes were added to the pile, he walked up and down the uneven line that was finally formed by the captives.

"Nothing else on them?" N'ton asked, remembering Fort Hold and the conspicuous absence of any personal identification.

"Clothes?" someone from the crowd suggested, laughing raucously.

"A bit worn, some of 'em," another man replied derisively.

"What a sorry bunch!" Captain Venabil said, fists thrust against his hips, shaking his head. "It's plain as the nose on my face this lot were up to no good sneaking into the Print Hall, faces blackened and all. Not to mention pulling the doors down and heaving torches about. Wide Bay's not a wild hold and we don't want such louts hanging about. What's this established procedure of yours, Lord Jaxom? I'd like to get back to my ship before dawn."

Jaxom accorded him a little bow.

"Shouldn't we send for Lord Kashman?" someone shouted from the crowd. "He's our Holder and he's supposed to deal with peace-breakers, thieves, burglars, and such."

"For general Hold matters," Pinch said quickly. "This is a Harper Hall matter. However, if any of you…" and he addressed the captives, "is from this Hold you may step forward and I'm sure Lord Kashman will keep you comfortably enough."

He was interrupted by a derisive snort and the comment from the crowd that the net was more comfortable than where offenders of the peace were held at Keroon Hold.

"As I was saying," Pinch continued with a faint grin, "if you are of this hold, you can be transferred to the Hold to await Lord Kashman's judgment."

None of the captives claimed that right.

"Name, hold, hall, and rank, if any," N'ton said, stepping with authority beside Pinch.

There was no response and N'ton shrugged.

"Then, since they have been caught in an illegal entry and in the willful destruction of an authorized Crafthall, Master Tagetarl, Master Mekelroy, how will you deal with them?"

Surprised by the anger and the sense of violation that suddenly fueled him, Tagetarl surged to Pinch's side, glaring at the captives. The false wineman he had already recognized by the ripped trousers-which hadn't fit properly even before he'd been bounced about in a net-but he could not find Scar-face or the woman sketched by Pinch after his first foray to the suspected Abominators' hill camp. Their absence from this line added worry to Tagetarl's very mixed emotions.

"Why did you wish to damage this Hall?" he demanded in a harsh voice, his fury palpable enough to make those captives nearest him recoil uncertainly. "WHY?" He jammed his fists against his side to rein in the urge to tear the truth out of those who would have destroyed what he had so painstakingly built. He took one more step.

"Lies!" Hands defensively raised, the man directly in front of him ducked back. "We have to destroy the lies!"

"What lies?" Tagetarl demanded, having expected no answer, certainly not this one.

"The lies Harpers are printing. Spreading all over Pern!" the man cried, gesturing wildly toward the Hall, to the wall where finished books were shelved.

"What's this about lies?" demanded Captain Venabil, turning to Tagetarl for an answer.

"I don't print lies!" Tagetarl cried, loudly.

"But you print books. You use the Abomination's vile methods. You distribute abominations!"

Captain Venabil, big fist raised, leaped toward the speaker who cowered away.

"Ha! Abomination, huh? These're Abominators!" He turned, eyes flaring with disgust, toward the crowd. "Nothing but a pack of cowardly Abominators, sneaking around in the night to destroy what they haven't the wit to appreciate."

"We must stop the lies. We must keep Pern pure!" cried a woman farther down the line of captives. "We have to keep Pern free of abominations."

"Of all the daft ideas!" Captain Venabil's contempt was echoed vociferously by many of the onlookers. "Pern needs all the help it can get right now!"

"Where would we've been if Aivas hadn't warned us of the Fireball Flood?" a man in the crowd demanded loud enough to be heard, waving his fist at the captives. "Captain's got the right idea. Drown 'em!"

Shouts of "drown 'em" quickly became a chant, rising in ominous volume!

"Back in the net with them! Take the school back to the sea."

"That'd pollute our harbor!"

Ruth bugled loud enough to deafen those in the court. Outside, Lioth answered him and a muttering silence returned to those in the Hall court.

"You are Abominators?" Jaxom said in an oddly controlled voice. His eyes were on one of the taller captives who stared unseeingly ahead of him.

"We are!" the woman cried defiantly, just as the wineman shouted, "We admit nothing!"

"I think in this case," Captain Venabil said in a wry tone that carried to the edges of the crowd, "I'll believe the female."

"They're all together, ain't they?" asked the fist-waver. "All pulling the doors down, trying to fire the sheds."

"Yes, firing the sheds." A thin, stoop-shouldered man pushed through the crowd, waving wildly at the sheds and the back of the court. "You could've burned my hold, too! I'm Colmin, Journeyman weaver, and all my winter work's in the loft back there. I use only traditional patterns and you could have ruined me! Ruined me!"